The Senses
by Spooky52
Summary: Told in Jerome's POV. Rather angsty story in which Jerome is sick of feeling so numb. VincentJerome slash warning.


**Title:** The Senses

**Pairing:** Vincent/Jerome

**Summary:** Jerome is callous to everything. It seems the only way he can feel is to hurt himself. But Vincent changes that.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this movie or the characters obviously. And this is something I cooked up from not being able to sleep so I don't remember my exact state of mind when I wrote this. This is my first pairing fic. I thought I'd give it a shot.

**Warning:** Hint of self-mutilation in this story. And, yes, there is slash in this. So please, if you aren't comfortable with m/m pairings, don't read. Also, I think Irene is awesome (after all, she's played by cool Uma Thurman), but I couldn't resist writing Vincent/Jerome. I mean they're such an interesting and rare pairing.

**Amusing Pre-Story Quote:**

"I like it when the red water comes out." -Salad Fingers (from "Salad Fingers")

I liked watching myself bleed. When I drew blood for Vincent I did not flinch. I liked the feeling of the cold needle piercing my skin and watching the tube fill. I liked the pain.

Since I found out I would never walk again I grew numb to everything. I was designed to be the perfect human and I failed everybody. I was like the Titanic: made to be unsinkable but I broke apart anyway. After my accident, my friends visited me less and less. Partly because they couldn't believe it was me. My swimmers body was twisted and scarred. My alcohol consumption became worse and worse. I couldn't bear to live sober. But mostly, my isolation was my own fault. I'd purposely cut myself off from the world and remained trapped in my prison cell of a body.

At least pain was a feeling. At least the warm blood running down my arm was a sensation. And a hangover sure enough made me feel something. I didn't care what these things did to me as long as I could be human.

I envied Vincent. He had passion and sorrow. All I had was melancholy. I hated him because he confused me. The longer he lived with me, the more attached I became to him. This made me uneasy because I gave up on any connection with anyone years earlier. Vincent depended on me to keep the DNA coming. Bits of skin, blood, urine, etc. But I depended on him to make me feel. Perhaps I love him in some strange way, I once thought to myself. After I thought this I laughed at myself angrily. _Loved_ him? I lost my ability to love and besides, he was a _man_. But then again, what did sexuality matter? Nobody wants to be with a fucking cripple.

The night he recorded my heartbeat tested my feelings for him. I remembered a flutter in my stomach when he touched me to put the recorder on my chest. I hoped he didn't hear the tiny gasp I made. He didn't it seemed. Or at least he didn't care.

"How long do you want me to do this for?" I asked.

"About twenty minutes," Vincent said putting the headphones on.

I began to roll the wheels of my chair. I looked at him listening to my heartbeat. What was he thinking about? Most likely about space and the stars. I continued to push the wheels. This is what I have come to, I thought, pushing the damned chair. I thought about how I would never be able to run again. Worse. I would never be able to swim again. The feeling of the water rushing past me. The movement of my body in time with the current. It was all gone. And swimming was the thing that made me feel truly human. My sight became blurred and my face hot. I stopped rolling and buried my face in my hands to cry.

"Eugene?" said Vincent running over to me. He took his headphones off and knelt next to me. There I sat sobbing. As I thought swimming my heart broke. I hadn't remembered the last time I cried but somehow it was a relief. Vincent put his hand on my back.

"What's wrong?" he asked with gentleness in his voice.

I sniffed and whipped my eyes. I said in a cracked voice, "I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

"No, it's OK, you did it for long enough," he said.

He reached to my exposed chest to take the recorder off. I grabbed his hand. Surprised, he looked up at me. I pulled him towards me and kissed him. He gave a startled cry in my mouth and I let him go. He quickly stood and backed away. His face shocked and flushed. I realized what I had done.

"I-I'm sorry…" I stammered.

I expected Vincent to yell at me or maybe even hit me. I thought he would do something to lash out his anger. But he didn't. He just stood there glaring at me. He walked away slowly and dumbfounded. The next day, the incident was never brought up. It was as if it never happened. But it did. And I wanted him.

One night I drank more than usual. It seemed that no matter how drunk I got that night, I couldn't feel. I went to the point where I felt dizzy and sick. I rolled over to the kitchen and took out a knife. Since I was out of my element, I wasn't thinking about what I was doing. I examined the blade and looked at how it glinted in the light. Next thing I remember was putting my hand on the table and spreading my fingers. When I was a teenager, I used to play knife games. I was very good at it. I could stab the blade in between the spaces of my fingers without cutting myself. I wondered if I could do the same thing.

Stabbed once. Stabbed twice. So far so good. I tried to pick up speed but then…

The pain was fierce but I didn't cry out. I pulled the knife out of my hand and looked at it. The blood oozed out rapidly. The gash on the back of my hand spilled down my arm and onto the table. Blood. It was just red liquid. Red liquid filled with genetic code that has become an obsession in today's society. I passed out.

I woke up in my room. The light was very dim, so it took me a while to make out the corners. I turned my head to the nightstand. The clock said it was almost midnight. I'd been out for hours. My hand was bandaged up. Then the door opened. Vincent walked in and stood at the end of the bed.

"Well?" he said.

"I'm sorry," was all I could manage to utter.

He sighed and looked at me with his sad eyes.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked.

I didn't say anything.

"Why do you hurt yourself?" he said.

"So…" I hesitated, "I can feel."

He walked over to me and sat beside me at the edge of the bed.

"What do you mean 'feel'?" he asked.

"Something…to let me know I'm alive," I said.

He looked at me for a long time and he touched my cheek. It sent an odd feeling through my body.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

No one had ever said that to me. I was speechless. I told him how I felt by kissing him on the forehead. He didn't walk away or anything as I expected. He kissed me back on the lips. I blushed.

Things became a blur after that.

Next thing I remember was Vincent lying on top of me. His shirt was off and mine was open. We were kissing deeper this time. I ran my hand along his back and looked him over. He was pale and scrawny, but I liked it. He kissed my chest and then moved up and ran his tongue across my collarbone. My body shuddered all over and my breathing became quicker. I pressed my bandaged hand against his hip and began slipping a couple of fingers into the waistband of his pants.

"Vincent," I murmured.

He looked at me, his eyes wide.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Vincent," I said cupping his face in my hand.

I can't really describe what happened next. I shut down all thought and just felt. My legs were damaged and numb, but this disability allowed every other part of me to awaken with so much more intensity. I could feel all my hairs stand. I could feel his skin against mine. I could feel the heat of his breath against my neck. I could hear my own voice breaking out loud. I could smell his hair. I could taste the bit of blood from when I bit my lip during a moment of intensity. And I could see deeply in his eyes, which were full of wonder and sadness. I can't remember the last time I felt so good.

In the deep night Vincent lay asleep next to me. My body was still reaching its normal state. I sighed and looked at him. I knew deep down that this was a once in a lifetime thing. As much as I desired have this with him again some time in the future, something told me it wasn't possible. Were we lovers or friends? I couldn't say. Our relationship had no title. We were something a little deeper and in between lover and friend. I gave Vincent the ability to go to Gattaca by lending him my body. He gave me the ability to feel by giving me his love.

I nuzzled into the crook of his neck and drifted off to sleep. I had a wonderful dream. I dreamt I was in the ocean swimming. I moved sleek in the water and felt the waves against me. The cool water sliding down my back as I cut through the current. I swam out and disappeared in the horizon.


End file.
